Time to think and thoughts on time

Although the Government has started Stage 1 of easing the restrictions the last couple of weeks, I still feel a bit wary of being outside, apart from getting groceries and the afternoon walks around the neighborhood. Until there is a vaccine, the chances for a second wave seems imminent. I try and stop myself from letting my thoughts jump too far deep into doomsday contemplations. I am still quite enjoying the motherhood and working-from-home bubble I am in until I must transition my little one into daycare.

What I do really miss though are long drives to the regions and weeklong camping sessions. I recall a special trip to the Coorong with my marine science friends. We sat around the fire after a day of trekking into the dunes, swimming in the ocean, and setting up camp, enjoying a temporary shared life without being bound by electricity, phone reception, running water, and so on. Conversations and wine were the some of the few things we had those evenings and it felt like absolutely all I needed. We were all very present with each other. There were no emails to cut off our thoughts, no phone calls to distract us from the others’ stories. Presence and connection, I realized then, were absolute treasures.

I also remember a special camping trip I did all on my own several years back. I’ve done a lot of backpacking, mostly around the time I was completing my Master’s degree, but it was always with a small group of friends. I’ve always wanted to do some camping on my own but was being warned about all the things that could go wrong and the dangers of solo camping (snakes and all). I was in-between jobs at that stage and felt that I really needed to do this. I was scared that I was going to ‘fail’ at it. I didn’t. It was life-changing. It led to a resurfacing of confidence and independence I thought that I had lost. It led to co-founding a not-for-profit organization. It led to forming new valuable friendships. It led to mentoring other STEM women. Being brave enough to fully face myself, be alone with myself, during a difficult time of unemployment, allowed me to get on a path that led to so many good things. I admit it was a privilege to be able to have that time to do it. Sometimes, time is a necessary and unavoidable ingredient to self-transformation too.

This week, in the midst of submitting minor revisions for a manuscript, successfully transitioning my baby into the cot, grocery-shopping and disinfecting, attending Zoom meetings, and slowly de-cluttering my new home, I find my old camping journal. The COVID19 pandemic has changed our lives. It’s a scary time for most. The future seems unpredictable and uncertain, but I find that there is a present opportunity to be more fluid in the daily 24 hours that I have each day. The quote below is one shared by one of my friends during our camping trip to the Coorong. It’s a timely reminder for me when I feel like I can never catch-up with the never-ending to-do list of a single working mother during the time of the coronavirus.

Time began to change. There was no clock in the house. No sense of time other than the daylight through the windows and my own sense of pattern—finding my hand on the kettle as it began to tremble, or stepping outside to find the sun a white hole above the highest spruce. I’d never given it much thought, but now clock time seemed bizarre, like we’d domesticated the Earth’s motions, housed it in convenient cages, harnessed it as a farm animal to help with our daily work. No longer would I slip the turning of the Earth from my wrist.Howard Axelrod